Ghost of Myself
by eternallydaydreaming
Summary: A secret rendezvous leads to the securing of a Niflheim defector but none could imagine the secrets he possessed. Rating is subject to change.
1. Prologue

A/N: Fair warning, this fic contains references to a big spoiler in FFXV. If you have not finished the game and do not want to be spoiler please come back and visit after you have completed the game. Otherwise I hope you enjoy this introduction to what will be a multi-chapter fic. Please bear in mind with the little information we have about certain people or events in FFXV I do have to take quite a bit of artistic liberties to make this fic work out. If more information ends up getting release or there's canonical anecdotes that I have not come across I'll be happy than happy to revise the fic as I deem necessary to make it fit in the FFXV world. Enjoy!

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Ghost of Myself

Prologue

Dishes clattered noisily in the diner's kitchen. In the late night, the booths were fairly empty. The few people present casted sideways glances as they passed by the duo's booth. The man cautiously eyed each occupant but none paid heed to the well-groomed, middle aged man. Rather, concerned stares landed on the scrawny, disheveled child…mud-covered and reeking of sweat. The man's heart palpitated. Perhaps it was mistake to bring the child out into public. However, his heart broke with each angry grumble of the boy's stomach. With the way the child voraciously tore into the burger, not caring about the grease dribbling down his chin, one would think the boy had not eaten for days.

"More coffee for you, Sir?" The waitress inquired, stealing peeks at the boy.

"Please," he responded, holding his ceramic mug up for her.

"How about you, kiddo? Anything else I can get you?"

Remaining focused on demolishing the burger the child ignored the waitress. Or he may not have registered her speaking to him. At the rate he was going though, the man feared the skinny kid's appetite would not be satiated.

"Could you bring a bowl of fruit for him?" the man intervened.

The waitress nodded. "Sure."

When Clarus Amicitia first assigned him the task of intercepting a Niflheim defector, the last thing he expected to find was the lone child. He had suddenly popped out through a dense forest that line the road though not at their exact rendezvous point. He stood shivering as the wind blew through his torn clothes. Without hesitation the boy entered his car. After that the man had little luck pulling any information out of him. Instead he only responded with clattering teeth and the roaring belly.

He watched partially disgusted, but mostly sympathetic, as the kid shoved the last giant bite of meat and bun into his little mouth, forcing his cheeks out like a chipmunk. After gulping it down, he then slurped the rest of his soda and unleashed a loud, carbonation induced belch. As the boy set his sights on the salty fries, his demeanor changed slightly as he began to leisurely munch on the potato sticks, two at a time.

"What's your name?" the man softly prodded, careful not to come off too strongly. With the boy seemingly more at ease, the last thing he needed was for him to retreat into his shell.

Instead of replying the boy just stared at the man. His first eye-to-eye contact; this was progress. Through the long unkempt hair, the man could barely see the stoic light blue eyes. There's no telling what was going through his young mind. The man slowly reached out to offer a reassuring grip but instantly retreated when the boy flinched at his touch. Stoic transformed to fear.

"I won't hurt you," the man promised though unsure if the boy believed him. After a moment's pause, he ventured again, "what's your name?"

The boy looked down at the table as if the answer would be written on it. Then spotting the tattoo on his wrist, he began reading off the serial code. Quickly the man clasped his hand around the tiny wrist, earning him a startled gasp.

"Shhh," he whispered, motioning with his free hand for the boy to remain calm. "Not that. What I want to know is….do you have a name? Is there something else people call you by?"

The boy bit his lip while staring at the large hand that pinned him down. Wanting to earn his trust, the man loosened his grip, allowing the child to retreat his hand back into his lap. Clearing his throat, the man gave another attempt.

"My name is Lustro Scientia. I was told to come look for you after we received your encrypted message. How should I call you?"

The boy stared into his lap as his fingers fiddled with each other. Just as Lustro was about to surrender to a lost cause, the boy whispered, "A-Ar-Argentum….Prompto Argentum."

As the waitress returned with the bowl of fruit, the malnourished boy clammed up and began devouring the brightly colored chopped pieces. Lustro watched, wondering if the boy had never seen food in his life as he treated each item set before him as an indulgent novelty.

 _What exactly is your story, Prompto Argentum?_


	2. Runt with a Gun

Chapter 1: The Runt with a Gun

Pow!

His head whipped back as the fist collided with his nose. A loud crunch resonated in his ear as the cartilage shattered from the impact. Pain radiated across his sinus cavity; his sky blue orbs watered up. Blinking the tears back did little to clear his vision as the two combatants kicked up the loose dust. Itchy, watery eyes painfully obstructed his vision; the longer the two kept up the sparring session the greater the hell they had to endure. Knitting his brows together, he tried to drown out the rowdy cheers and heckles as each member of the audience formed their alliances. Tasting blood trickling into his mouth, the little blonde boy wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"Kick his butt, Ferrous!"

Prompto's cheeks burned, insulted that so few would back him up. The boys in his platoon were ruthless about asserting their dominance. What stupidity! All citizens were required to serve the Imperial Military anyway. At this rate they were more likely to kill each other before the Lucians get their chance. Were the girls this bad? There was no way to answer that question. The female units were assigned to an entirely different base. Prompto was not even sure if they received the same training as the boys or if they learned a completely different skill set.

Whoosh!

Prompto jerked his head to the side in time to avoid another punch to his face. In a swift motion, Prompto turned around and thrusted his heel toward Ferrous. What should have been a clean rear kick to the stomach turned into his leg being captured and ended with him face-planting into the yellow sand. As he rubbed the particles out of the eyes, Prompto was blindsided by a sharp jab to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Embracing his bruised side, Prompto landed hard on his side. A pained yell echoed in the air. Then another kick lodged hard into his stomach, nearly forcing his breakfast back up. Despite making no attempt to get back to his feet, Ferrous unleashed a relentless assault over and over and over as the smaller boy curled up to protect his organs as much as he could. With no protective gear on, not even a shirt, Prompto's exposed skin was ripe for a beating.

"Stand down, Ferrous!" Drill Sergeant ordered. When Ferrous refused to comply, Drill Sergeant unceremoniously scooped him up and threw him out of the ring. Ferrous landed with a hard thud and an audible crack. A deep agonized scream tore through his throat. Upon seeing him cradling his arm, Prompto wondered if Drill Sergeant inadvertently broke his arm. He sure hoped so.

"Get up!" Drill Sergeant ordered.

Wobbly legs struggled to support his weight, but as soon as the world began to whirl around him, Prompto fell back down and violently vomited. Drill Sergeant shook his head at the pathetic display.

"Aurium, call for a medic."

"Sir!" the eldest of their squadron responded before running off to retrieve help. Each squadron contained one student mentor – an elite from their original cohort. Young adolescents, or in Aurium's case, preadolescent, assigned to younger units, serving as exemplified role models of skill mastery and honorable conduct. A blur of the tall boy's figure faded into the distance as the Prompto's world fell into darkness.

. . .

He wasn't sure what awoke him first – the medics yapping on about vitals or the humming machines actually monitor those vitals. Parting his lids slightly he was assaulted by the bright ceiling lights. Reflectively he clenched his eyes shut only to send hard pulses through his brain and a wave of nausea through his stomach.

 _Don't hurl, don't hurl, don't hurl_ , he repeated like a mantra.

Instinct won out, however, as he suddenly jerked his head to the side, vomiting all over his shoulder and onto the floor. Scuffles indicated that nurses were quickly trying to clean up and check in on him. His eyelid was pealed back by thick fingers and a small flashlight quickly moved in and out of his sight. Each time it left, a phantom white circle remained, obscuring his vision. Another round of nausea threatened to explode. Gulping it back down only seemed to agitate his stomach more.

"Identify yourself," the male nurse ordered. Or maybe he was a doctor. Honestly, he could never could tell the difference.

 _But I just want to sleep_ , Prompto thought longingly. With the way he was being prodded, no way that was happening anytime soon.

"NH-01987," he offered in a low whisper. His dry, sore throat couldn't any volume beyond that.

This satisfied the medic enough to jot down notes, giving Prompto a brief reprieve before the physical probing resumed. A somber sigh flowed through his nostrils. It still rubbed him wrong how the medics still treated him as nothing more than the serial number tattooed to his wrist, especially when he finally earned his name. Niflheim's philosophy was rooted in shaping one's own destiny. While most children receive a name of their parents' choosing, Niflheim's youth earned their name. Their identity held meaning with a name tailored to their personality. Something they can carry with pride and live up. It wasn't until six months ago "NH-01987" finally found his calling. While his aim had always been excellent (a balled up bath towel never missed the basket), it was on the shooting range that he fully demonstrated his accuracy. When firing a series of bullets, each managed to hit the target in a tight cluster…well the tightest anyone in his unit actually could hit. If several cans were lined up on a fence, he systematically knocked them off. In a drawing contest, his gun was quicker to find its target, which meant a dead opponent. A point blank shot between the eyes. His gift earned him the nickname "Quick Draw." Thus his father gifted him with the name Prompto Argentum. "Quicksilver" had a much better ring to it, but still fitting nonetheless. Much like how strong as iron Ferrous would have received his name, though Prompto was not sure about his first name. Come to think of it, he only knew his comrades by their surname.

 _Father…_

Turning to the nurse cleaning up his vomit Prompto asked in a hoarse whisper, "is Father here today?" Violent coughs racked his body as his lungs tried to expel the debris he had inhaled earlier.

"Dr. Besithia is in Gralea, meeting with the Emperor…"

"The minister's business is none of the child's concern," the male medic interjected.

The woman clamped her lips shut and walked out once she was done cleaning up after Prompto. The scrawny child stared at his sheets as if he had done something wrong, like disobeying direct order. It was true that Father rarely was around, but Prompto understood. It must have been very demanding to be the top imperial researcher. Many of Niflheim's successes were due to Father's dedicated work. His work helped to change the tide of war to their favor. Niflheim's well-being rested on his shoulders. But once in a while, Father made time to visit him. The old man asked many questions about Prompto's education and his development, and Prompto was more than willing to oblige in the storytelling. Father was the only person he could fully open up to and not annoy him by his motor-mouth.

"I don't get it," a gruff voice mocked once all of the medics had departed.

Jumping at the disembodied voice, Prompto grabbed his chest like he was having a heart attack. Then his hands immediately shot to his head when another round of headaches bounced off his skull. Footsteps padded over from about two beds away and the sheets yanked to the side revealing a scowling Ferrous. His black brows furrowed together so hard it looked as if Ferrous had a unibrow.

"Why are ya so freaking special, Argentum?"

Rolling his eyes up, Prompto genuinely pondered for a moment, searching for the answer, oblivious to the rhetorical nature of the question.

"I coulda killed ya out there, ya know?!" Ferrous spat out. "I was toying with you the whole time. All I had to do was get ya into a good choke hold and I coulda snapped yer chicken neck. It woulda been easy. But for some reason yer weak ass is Father's favorite."

Each accusation felt like a punch to the gut. The part that ripped his heart in half was knowing that every word uttered was true. A fresh round of tears welled up, wanting to wash away the insults.

"Face it, Argentum, ya damn lucky Father was merciful enough to spare ya when the rejects were weeded out. Damn luckier ya actually got skill. Yer sharp-shooting may actually get ya to sniper. Too bad ya won't ever be man enough for the frontlines."

Shooting a smug smirk at a pouty Prompto, Ferrous retreated back to his bed. A sling cradled his broken arm near his body. Huffing his impatience, Ferrous picked at the cast. Being the strongest fighter, the muscular brunette will be one temperamental butthead when he returned to training. And being the reason he ended up in the medical ward, he will immediately place a bullseye on Prompto's back. But why waste his energy on such a weakling anyway?

Rolling over to his side, Prompto kept his back to Ferrous as his tears finally dislodged and trickled down his cheek. He never had asked Father about the rumors, too scared to learn the truth. However, if the neural and genetic testing had detected problems in him, then he would have been incinerated within his first few hours of life – to make way for healthy, newborn citizens. Resources were already scarce for poverty stricken Niflheim. With the steady expansion of the empire, Niflheim was experiencing improved living standards especially when absorbing wealthier nations. Niflheim, however, still had a long way to go to fully sustain its citizens and thus the dead weight were eliminated to accommodate those who would serve as productive citizens who would help build a prosperous empire. Father did hold a lot of influence so what if Prompto was spared solely based on those political ties? May he was nothing more than the pity case after all. Nothing more than a runt with a gun.


	3. Spellbound

Chapter 2 – Spellbound

As he pulled his body, mud seemed to seep into every crevice of his uniform and found weird locations on his body to hide in. Prompto frowned in disgust as the cold, squishy turd-looking substance invaded his personal space. However if he tried to prop his body up to crawl rather than slide through the mud, the electrified barbed wire sent painful jolts into his back. A no win situation. Despite suffering still from bouts of dizziness, Prompto pulled himself as quickly as possible through the obstacle. Yet his speed did little to appease his colleagues as they impatiently nudged him from behind – some by physically shoving him and others by taunting his abilities. Maybe they should try to work through angry churning of bile in their stomach. Finally exiting the mud pit, Prompto pulled himself up and surveyed the brown slime as they slipped off and plopped onto the soggy ground. He turned up his nose and hoped a shower was actually on the schedule today.

Jogging to the next obstacle, Prompto lined up and waited for his turn to scale the tall, vertical wooden wall. The prospect was already inducing vertigo. A sickened groan reverberated in his throat. Propping his hands onto his knees, he bent over slightly, sucking in deep breaths.

"You ok, Argentum?"

Turning slightly, Prompto spotted a thin, red-headed boy. Friendly green eyes shone with concern. The only person who actually gave a damn about him.

"Think I'm gonna hurl," he confessed all the while wondering if his face had turned green.

"You got a concussion from the sparring session the other day, didn't you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Not like the docs tell me anything. They just write their stupid notes in the file. They treat it like it's 'need to know' classified stuff."

"Aren't med records confidential?" the red head mused.

Prompto rolled his eyes. "Even from the actual patient, Strontium? That's stupid. Shouldn't we know how our health will affect our abilities? Who do you suppose they are writing down notes for anyway if not for us."

"For Father, probably," Strontium pointed out. A small chuckle escaped as if finding humor in stating the obvious.

"Right," Prompto mumbled. His cheeks reddened as he sheepishly bit his lip.

As a boy successfully scaled over the wall, the line slowly progressed forward. While keeping an eye on his turn, Prompto noticed Ferrous carting supplies on the dirt path that outlined the perimeter of the obstacle course. Pretending to ignore him, Prompto felt glares from Ferrous's deep brown eyes burning into the side of his head. Prompto shifted his weight hoping Ferrous wouldn't sense his unease at feeling like a walking target.

"What an overachiever," Strontium grumbled. "Can't stand being sidelined. I just don't get why he blames you."

"Cuz Drill Sergeant bailed me out of his beat down and he got hurt cuz of it. He doesn't need any other reason. Gonna suck once he gets out of the cast. Takes six weeks for bones to fuse back together. That's a lot of pent up anger to release once he's free."

"Wish we had a better way. Father should look into that….finding ways for soldiers to heal faster. I hear in Insomnia they can instantly heal people."

Prompto spun around faster than his body cared for but the skeptical glance justified the temporary loss of balance. Reaching our his hand, he grabbed Strontium's shoulder until his could support himself again.

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. How can they heal anyone instantly?"

"Magic," Strontium whispered like a special secret that only a select few were entitled to. Prompto only deepened his "are you kidding me" stare.

"Seriously, hear me out," Strontium insisted. "For centuries the Lucian kings kept this special crystal that holds magical abilities. It's how Insomnia has that wall protecting them. It's built from magic that King Regis can use. The prince will eventually inherit those abilities too. It's from that magic that they were able to create things like potions. They even know how to mass produce them, bottle them, and they just sell them. They never have to worry about getting hurt in battle….ever!"

"I don't get how you even know any of this."

Strontium leaned in and whispered into Prompto's ear, "On my last rotation I was responsible for cleaning the library for the upper classmen. They actually get to learn about the world outside of this base…outside of Niflheim. I guess it makes sense since they would go on missions soon after they graduate. Anyway, there's lots of cool information. One book was about Lucian history. There was information about the ring each king inherits, which is how they channel the crystal's energy. Weird, huh? We have the better technology but they can beat us with a magical ring."

"For now," Prompto snorted. "Our technology keeps beating their magic, right? We're growing and they're shrinking."

Prompto walked up, now the front man of his line.

"Chat time's over I guess," Strontium huffed. "Just remember, when you get library rotation, check out the books. You'll be amazed. Seriously!"

"Yeah, whatever," came the bored reply before Prompto ran up, grabbed the rope, and began scaling the vertical wall.

His biceps burned as he heaved himself up the rope. Not quite getting proper traction, his feet would occasionally slip, making the ordeal last longer than it should have. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Prompto fought against the light headedness. Telling himself to focus on the clouds, Prompto kept his gaze up.

"Aaaah!"

A loud thud and accompanied crack nearly broke his focus. His hand slipped slightly at the sudden distraction. Prompto flinched as a splinter lodged into his finger. Closing his eyes momentarily, he regained his composure and resumed the task. As Prompto finished his ascension, he threw one leg over and straddled the wall. Shaking out his arms, a triumphant grin pulled at Prompto's lips as he relished in his accomplishment…until he peered down at the mangled body at the base. His stomach clenched as he stared wide-eyed at Strontium; his head twisted one way with the rest of his body faced the opposite direction.

But…but he was okay just a moment ago….what happened?

"Move your ass, Argentum!"

A violent shove nearly knocked him off the wall. Prompto fell forward and clamped the sides of the wall, stabilizing himself once again.

"Move or you'll end up like Strontium," the kid threatened. The deep, impatient glare reaffirmed his intentions.

"I'm moving," Prompto barked back much like a small puppy would try to intimidate a larger foe, but like said puppy, his bark was worse than any bite he would deliver.

Huffing out his frustration, Prompto carefully yet quickly descended the wall. As he progressed through the rest of the obstacle course, Prompto held a silent vigil for his fallen comrade as there would be no opportunity to mourn later. No memorial…nothing. Strontium will be discarded and then forgotten. Cremated and thrown into the wind to become one with the earth again, without taking up unnecessary space. Prompto clenched his fists into tight balls as his cheeks puffed up and reddened. Angry tears welled up but instead of letting them fall, he used them to propel himself faster and harder through his training.

 _Once Insomnia falls, we should spare the king so he can be a potion-making slave. That way no Niflheim child will ever have to die stupidly like that again._


	4. When Opportunity Comes Knocking

Chapter 3 – When Opportunity Comes Knocking

Spooning up the greyish beige soupy goop, Prompto scrunched up his nose and choked back on his gag reflex. Tipping it, the liquefied sludge splattered onto the serving tray. Breakfast had a more pungent odor than normal today.

"It's runny today," he pouted. If he was being honest, he would have complained regardless. The choice for texture was either the runny diarrhea look or the thick, difficult to swallow dry crap. Runny at least slipped down his throat more easily with minimal after taste.

"Is this even fresh?" Another boy complained under his breath.

"Probably not," a third replied. "Probably why they just added water to it."

"All the more reason Niflheim needs to come out on top of this war."

Surprised eyes spun toward Aurium who only continued to systematically spoon in a mouthful of food, swallow, lower his spoon, and repeat the cycle. The boys stared in awe as the upper classman unflinchingly gulped his breakfast – a skill that surely took years to acquire the taste. Prompto sat trying to remember if he even had heard Aurium's voice before. He was so used to hearing high pitched boys talk that was certain he would remember hearing Aurium's lower voice range.

"You lot should be grateful for whatever food can be provided to us and eat without complaint. The Emperor is doing the best he can with our limitations. The more we can conquer Lucian territory the more access we will have. King Regis's embargo did not bode well on our ability to import food. You best remember that. Each time you want to bitch about how hard training is or how unfair things are here, you remember that Insomnia – the decisions of one city - is what put us in this position."

The boys immediately clamped their mouths shut except to shovel in more runny grits into their rumbling bellies. Prompto sighed as he jabbed at the mess in his tray while holding a bun in his free hand. At least the bread was still recognizable albeit stale. As Prompto lowered his spoon for another bite, a hand swiftly flung his tray off the table. The grits smeared across the floor. Prompto stared in disbelief as his stomach angrily protested against the offense. Spinning around, Prompto spied Ferrous smirking mischievously at him.

"What's your problem, Ferrous?! I get your pissed at me but it's low to go after someone's rations!"

Prompto tried to stand up only to be pushed back into his seat with enough force to fall back and bang his head against the table. Propping himself onto his elbows, Prompto glared at his attacker, hurt filling his blue eyes.

"What I don't get is why we waste rations on you?" Ferrous sneered. "Thought you were supposed to be the one with the sharp eyes but you couldn't even see that attack coming. Face it, the minute you find yourself within the sights of a kingsglaive, you wouldn't even last a second. You're never going to survive out there, Argentum. So why does the military keep wasting supplies on a pathetic runt like you?"

Ferrous knelt down, pressing his lips next to Prompto's ear and whispered menacingly, "If you want your rations, you can lick it from the floor."

As Ferrous sauntered away, Prompto's eyes darted from Ferrous's back to the adult guards standing around and doing absolutely nothing. Not that they hadn't noticed the commotion as they were looking at Prompto's direction. Rather their hardened expressions seemed to be judging him, as if he deserved the ridicule. Reddened cheeks burned as he stared at the floor to hide his shame. Have they always felt that way? Until now he never noticed the silent stares – the accusation of "you don't belong here." But of course he belonged. It was a duty of all Niflheim citizens. Why would he not fight for his home against foreign threats? But how can anyone do that when your own people did not even accept your worth?

. . .

"Listen up, cadets!"

Drill Sergeant's voice boomed loudly though Prompto's stomach tried to match his volume. Keeping a flat back, he fought against the urge to release whiny sighs or patting his empty stomach. The day barely started and yet all he wanted to do was curl up in bed. The rifle weighed down on his shoulder to the point he feared the strap would slip off. Despite the temptation to wiggle his shoulder to keep the gun secure, Prompto remained still as a statue.

"Today you have target practice."

 _Yes!_ Prompto celebrated while maintaining his stoic stature.

"You might be able to fight wielding brute force but one must be precise in where to land the blows. Aim wrong and you'll inflict minimal damage…if any at all. Strength alone will get you nowhere. For today's exercise you will pair up with another cadet. Your partner will balance a can on their head."

Drill Sergeant held up an example of said can which seemed more like a small cube. Not a cylindrical rations can that he had expected.

"Your job is to shoot the can off your partner's head and NOT shoot your partner. Careful, your partner's life is in your hands."

Drill Sergeant's devilish smirk sent chills down Prompto's spine.

"Pair up!"

A slap to the back of Prompto's head violently whipped his head forward. Then a gruff, "better not screw up, Quick Draw" invaded his ear canal. Prompto's head popped up in time to see Ferrous head out to the open field to line up with the first round of "targets."

 _Don't get that jerk. Said I don't belong here yet trusts me enough to not hit him. He seriously needs to make up his mind._

Prompto laid down on the ground and propped up his rifle, positioning the butt into the crook of his shoulder. Shutting one eye, Prompto peered through the scope. The air was still, no breeze to account for. He centered the cross hairs right on the middle of his mark. A dull sigh escaped his nostrils.

 _This ain't even a challenge._

Opening his left eye, Prompto noticed an impatient stare as Ferrous waited to be relieved of the cube resting on his head.

 _Even Ferrous knows this should have been an easy task._

Lowering his aim, Prompto gazed into the icy stare from coal black eyes. Ferrous's face twitched as he resisted against scowling at having to wait longer than he had anticipated. A deep inhale heaved his chest slightly. Prompto wished he could laugh at how uncomfortable the taller boy grew as he became antsier but unable to shift positions. After all, the slightest movement may cause the cube to fall off. That'll earn him demerits for insubordination. Shifting his gaze out of the scope slightly Prompto caught Drill Sergeant staring straight at him. While most five-year-olds were still developing their aim, it was abnormal for Prompto to take so long to gain his bearings.

 _Crap!_ He cursed not meaning to draw attention to himself. Any more wasted time he'll be chewed out by Drill Sergeant and then get his ass kicked by Ferrous…again.

Locking sights through the scope again, Prompto repositioned his gun and took aim. Although…if he eliminated one of the threats, he can at least spare himself the ass-kicking. Prompto lowered his aim with the cross pointing below the cube. He noticed Ferrous's brows knitting together as he fought to concentrate on balancing the cube and fighting to maintain his composure. Ferrous's forehead glistened as what Prompto assumed was sweat began seeping out of his pores. His index finger curled around the trigger.

 _Hello there, opening…_

The rifle kicked back slightly as he released the bullet. Ferrous's head careened back. A loud blood-curdling scream rang throughout the fields as Ferrous wailed all the while holding onto his forehead. Prompto's eyes grew to the size of saucers as he stared in horror though he wasn't sure what he was more scared of: the fact that Ferrous was going to be even more pissed off at him or that he actually thought there were real bullets in his rifle.

"The hell was that, Argentum?!"

Prompto scrambled to his feet as Drill Sergeant hastily stomped over. Standing at attention, he waited for Drill Sergeant's reprimands. His racing heart betrayed his calm, still stance.

"What the hell happened?!"

Drill Sergeant stood so close that Prompto could feel his spittle splash his cheek. Despite facing completely forward he could feel several pairs of eyes burning into his skull.

"My aim was off, Sir!"

A moment of shocked silence overcame Drill Sergeant. Prompto's heart thumped harder against his chest.

"I can see that, cadet! I am not blind. Why did you miss?!" he shouted, mostly likely frustrated to have his intelligence insulted.

"It's my concussion, Sir. My head got messed up when Ferrous kicked my ass the other day."

Silence again lingered in the air as Drill Sergeant contemplated the legitimacy of the statement. The longer the silence the more Prompto prayed he had remembered Strontium's words properly. What if he used the wrong diagnosis? Those medics really need to start communicating with their patients.

Prompto's hair stood on his neck as Drill Sergeant leaned in, his nose nearly pressed against side of his face.

"Don't let it happen again. You get injured in the field you're still responsible for your unit. You can't just fire on your own squadron. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"You're out the rest of the exercise."

"Sir!"

Prompto saluted before handing over his rifle and taking a seat off the field. He momentarily glanced up in time to see Ferrous deliver a death glare and using his finger to slice against his throat. Prompto quickly stared back at the ground and cursed himself for the moment of weakness.

 _You better count your blessings that it was a rubber bullet, Ferrous. I'll never get a chance like that again to rid my life of you._


	5. Empty Shell

Empty Shell

Half-lidded eyes fought to stay awake. Eternity seemed to be passing by as Prompto sat on the hard plastic chair, waiting for his turn. Gazing at the white floor, Prompto watched as his legs swung back and forth. The camouflage pattern wrinkled as the fabric bunched with the motion. Instead of preoccupying his time the pendulum motion seemed to have been lulling him to sleep. Whipping his head up, he groaned as he searched for some source of entertainment. Everywhere he looked though he was greeted by plain white walls. The only decorations present were posters with various military regulations, one of which reminded him that his slightly shaggy blonde locks were overdue for a cut. Releasing an exasperated huff, he finally settled of picking at the cuticle of his nails.

Slowly the line of boys entering the examination room dwindled down, but when a different boy was called in, Prompto slumped his shoulders allowing impatience get the best of him. He knew his behavior was unbecoming of a future soldier; he didn't care. The minute the squadron learned of Father's arrival each boy raced to be first to receive his attention. Prompto's little legs worked against him since the boys with the longer legs ran with greater strides. Banging his head lightly against his wall, he watched as the seconds ticked by on the wall-mounted clock.

"NH-01987."

 _Dammit!_

Gritting his teeth was all he could do to prevent a low growl escape his throat as his serial number was called out. He hopped off his chair and stomped toward to the examination room. However all of his anger melted away as his blue eyes locked sight on the white haired man sitting in the doctor's chair. A smile crept up as he studied the long white robe. For some reason it reminded him of a dress and each time he saw the garb he wanted to giggle. He happily bounded over and would have hugged the old man until he remembered his manners thus bee-lining for the examining table and jumped up.

"Good afternoon, Prompto," Verstael greeted with a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, Father."

Prompto grinned at the sound of his own name. A warmth flooded his heart and lifted his spirits. The only time he actually felt like an individual. Prompto watched as Verstael picked up a small tablet and began scrolling through Prompto's records, carefully reading over the new entries.

"Please undress so that I can perform the physical exam," Verstael instructed, his eyes still concentrated on the tablet.

The boy mentally chastised himself for being absent minded. He should have known better; after all this was a routine physical. Agitated, his small fingers fumbled with the buttons until he decided to rip open the camouflage patterned jacket and casted it aside. The white undershirt soon joined the jacket, then his pants all the while clumsily kicking off his boots. As he stood nude the cold air kissed his freckled skin, raising goosebumps all over his body. Yet he waited patiently as Verstael finished analyzing his records. Every so often his wrinkles twitched or deepened as he contemplated over the words. Prompto could only guess what he was reading considering no one ever told him anything. Somehow not knowing what others thought of him made him feel more vulnerable than being naked.

Setting the tablet down, Verstael stood up and signaled for Prompto to resume his spot on the examining table. After he hoisted himself up, Verstael pressed his cold hands over Prompto's body, searching for any signs of inflammation or other abnormalities.

"How has your training been?"

"Okay," he replied curtly.

Couldn't they talk about anything else? Prompto rolled his eyes up, staring at the ceiling as he searched through his memories if anything interesting actually did happen recently and not related to training but came up with nothing but the recent threats and ass-kicking.

"Is that all? 'Okay?' Nothing you care to share at all?"

The probing tone caught Prompto's attention. His heart skipped a beat as he pondered what information the old man could have been fishing for. Chewing on his lip to keep his silence he avoided eye contact and only responded with a shiver when the cold metal of the stethoscope pressed against his chest.

Realizing Prompto would not volunteer any information, Verstael pressed on. "Want to tell me about why you tried to kill your comrade?"

"I didn't try to kill him," he protested in a forced mocked shock. "The gun had rubber bullets and I just missed the target and hit him by accident."

Verstael quirked a white eyebrow, knowing better than to believe the little boy. Prompto sheepishly shifted his gaze away wishing he could fade away. The old man pulled up a rolling chair and situated himself in front of Prompto, tilting his head to find the child's blue eyes.

"Prompto, my child, I know better than that. Your accuracy is your gift. Like a true marksman the gun is an extension of yourself. You are not one to miss."

Biting the inside of his cheek he really wanted to spit out "But I hurt my head recently. That could've affected my aim." However he couldn't find it in his heart to lie to his elder.

"Ferrous has been picking on me. He always has a target on my back. He blames me for his broken arm even though that's Drill Sergeant's fault. He's been making my life miserable every chance he gets. I know he's gonna try to beat me up next once his arm is fixed. He pisses me off so badly. He even steals my rations. I just wanted to get rid of him just so I can have peace."

Verstael's face remained emotionless as Prompto rambled out his frustrations. He held his breath as he waited for the scolding he was certain he had earned. Instead, Verstael clasped his hand around Prompto's tiny hand, rubbing his thumb over the barcode tattooed on the tiny wrist.

"Prompto, you do not realize it yet but you are a very special child."

Uncertainty filled his eyes even though his heart fluttered joyfully at the compliment.

"I understand your reservations for I was like you once," Verstael continued. "I was a small boy and very bookish. I was not athletic - not that I had cared to play with the other boys. But they also did not understand me. I yearned to comprehend the world around me and find a solution for my family's misfortunes – the same as every family in Niflheim. The other children teased me, called me weak, and a dreamer. They told me that studying was not going to win the war against Lucis. I had almost fallen prey taunts, and I would have given up. Then one man approached me, realizing my gift and pushed me to keep to my studies. It was not an easy road but yet I endured – overcame those obstacles of being born into a lower class and being told that my schooling was a waste of time. Look where I am now. I did not rise up because physical prowess but because of my mental faculties."

One hand let go of Prompto's and gently tilted his chin up so they now met directly eye-to-eye.

"You, my boy, will rise up as well. You need not be a frontline infantryman. Your accuracy though is unrivaled, fitting for a sniper. That in itself serves an utmost important purpose. However in order to reach your full potential, you must learn to rid yourself of all emotional burden. To feel nothing – no fear, no pain, no doubt. Once you achieve that you will have found the greatest freedom – that peace of mind you are searching for. Failure to do so will only serve to destroy you. Look what it has already done to you, turning on your fellow soldiers. Conspiracy to commit murder. If you continue down this path, Lucis will win this war without even lifting a finger. You cannot allow your resolve waiver otherwise you will be killed in a mere blink of an eye. I am counting you, Prompto, to bring honor to our country."

Releasing his hold on Prompto he resumed his examination, occasionally stopping to record notes on the tablet. Other than the squeaking of the rolling chair, the room remained in somber silence. Once Verstael concluded the physical Prompto quickly dressed himself, saluted, and exited the infirmary. The balmy air smacked hard against his face, nearly suffocating him, or perhaps that was his guilt over being so weak. Father may have called him special and attempted to instill confidence in him, however, all he felt now was Father's disappointment trailing after him.

Turning his head, he found the upper classmen conducting their drills. The boys stood at attention with one arm supporting a rifle. On command, the boys shifted positions in unison, now clutching the gun with both hands. Another command the unit dropped to one knee, propping the rifle up to aim at an imaginary target. Again another command and the boys resumed their original position. Prompto observed them for several minutes, marveling at their harmonic synchrony. As he stared at the teenagers he wondered if the older boys had found their inner peace. Had their training built up their mental rigor? Have their resolve been tested to the breaking point and were ready to courageously face down the might of the Kingsglaive? Would he ever be ready for such challenges?

The roaring engines of an infantry ship flew overhead drawing Prompto's attention to the sky. He had heard of the massive airships but this was the first time he ever saw the large, cubical, flying metal ship. Its presence also meant actual soldiers were on board. The truly valiant men. The ones who stared death in the face unwavering. Excitement elevated his heart rate as he pondered what would have drawn the soldiers to their training base. Then he placed his hand over his heart as guilt once again clenched it.

 _How does someone completely cut off all of their uncertainties? To be rid of all traces of fear? Can one truly become an empty emotionless shell and still call himself human?_


	6. Tides of War

Chapter 5 – Tides of War

The mess hall buzzed with chatter. Speculations and rumors whirled about why an airship landed at their base. Who was on it? What business did they have there amongst the soldier-in-training? At first Prompto figured the ship came to transport Father back to Gralea, but then realized a military ship was not necessary and Father normally was chauffeured by car. So he sat, silently choking down his dinner (the thick grits were on the menu) as the other boys did all of the thinking for him.

"Well I heard that they brought upgraded weapons!"

"I heard that it's just fresh rations…like, you know, actual food."

"You're all wrong," Aurium's voice cut through the buzz as he set down his tray and took his seat at the end of the table.

The surrounding boys silently waited, anxiously sitting on the edge of their seat. Aurium gazed down at his food as he carefully chewed each bit seemingly oblivious to their stares.

"Well?" Prompto softly prodded, curiosity getting the better of him.

Aurium looked up as if realizing pleading eyes watching him.

"You'll have to wait until tonight. I'm not at liberty to say any more."

The flat response was rewarded by mumbles and groans under the boys' breaths. Nothing ever happened out of routine. Aurium's business-like tone suggested this interruption in their life was indeed serious. Each boy quietly finished his dinner and were then ordered to complete their evening duties, which earned a scrunched up face from Prompto as he realized he was not getting out of cleaning the toilets. For a bunch of boys who were trained to target vital organs in combat, Prompto just couldn't comprehend how so many couldn't aim their piss into the urinals.

"So what do you think it is, Argentum?"

The sudden voice startled Prompto and he nearly banged his head against the porcelain urinal. He looked over and saw Plumbum vigorously scrubbing at stubborn mildew. Prompto couldn't remember if he ever talked with Plumbum; he was more used to side stepping accomplices of Ferrous. The general mood that night seemed to have shifted for all of the young soldiers.

"Dunno," Prompto shrugged as he continued wiping the floor.

"Father, didn't say anything to you."

Prompto's lips thinned as he pressed them together – the pink fading to white. Huffing in annoyance Prompto didn't understand why people thought he received some kind of special treatment from Father. At some point, everyone experienced one-on-one attention from Father.

"No," he replied flatly.

"I heard some of the upper classmen talking when I was passing by them. One said that he overhead that there's gonna be a demonstration for us tonight. They think it's a new weapon. Figured that's Father's area and thought maybe he might have mentioned it."

There was a longing in Plumbum's voice as if he there was some kind of special bond that he was missing out on. Was that why the other boys had hated Prompto?

"Nah, he didn't say anything. I have no idea what's happening. Not sure why they'd do a demo at night. Wouldn't it be easier to see in the daylight?"

Plumbum grunted out what sounded like an agreement. After that no other words passed between them as they completed their nightly chore. After returning to their barracks, the boys were escorted in a single file line to a stadium located on the opposite side of the base where the upper classmen lived. While he never confirmed with his own eyes it was said that the arena housed matches between soldiers-to-be and various beasts and even daemons to test the cadet's might and skill. Prompto's eyes widened in marvel. Were they about to witness such a contest?

As the cadets took their seats, curious whispers erupted. Prompto tried to peer toward one of the arena entrances but could see nothing in the dark tunnels. Admittedly it did not help to have people constantly walking in front of him. Nor did the glare shining off the barrier – wait, had that partition always been there? Prompto stared at the thick glass from which the few lamps' light bounced off. It towered to heights that even surpassed the top row of the stadium seats. Once all the boys had been loaded into the stadium, a uniformed official bearing several medals over his chest – most likely a commanding officer – walked forward on a centralized balcony. His mere presence sent a round of shushing throughout the crowd. The stillness seemed surreal to Prompto for he had never experienced this type of calm.

"Cadets, it had been brought to my attention that your training seems to be lacking as of late. That the desire to be the best may be waning. While we have been achieving success in the battlefield that does not give us license to grow complacent. You must maintain the passion to strive to be the top soldier, to continuously push yourself to the brink of your capabilities so that you may know the limits that you must surpass. I fear such complacency will result in weakened forces which may ultimately change the tide of war to favor Lucis. This must not happen. However, for you to truly fathom what we stand against I decided you all must witness the strength of our foe."

As if on cue, the gates slid open and an armored truck drove out. Stopping in the middle of the stadium, the back doors swung open and a body was pushed out. The truck sped away, leaving the dark figure lying on the ground. The few lamps present pointed toward the top of the stadium rather than to the ground thus making the black cloaked figure hard to observe through the night's dark veil. The figure finally rose. The man – well based on the broad shoulders and wide leg stance, Prompto assumed it was a man – was dressed in all black. Silvery metal accented the headdress almost as if the hood served as a makeshift helmet. On the back, a silver threaded design was embroidered into the cloak. At his distance it was difficult to make out what it should have been. The best Prompto could guess was a winged daemon.

"Whoa! Could that be…?"

Prompto couldn't make out the rest of the sentence. On the other hand the boy behind him might have just lost his words as they all gawked at the curious Lucian before them. Then the commander spoke into the microphone once again.

"Behold! A Kingsglaive!"

A round of oohs flared up throughout the crowd. The Kingsglaives have been mentioned to the cadets through Drill Sergeant's constant reminders that they were formidable soldiers – the frontline men in place of the Crown's Guard. Prompto knew they were supposed to be dangerous though Drill Sergeant never eluded as to exactly how. Had this day been planned for that purpose? A field study of sorts?

A loud roar echoed from another tunnel's entrance, rendering every cadet speechless. Prompto's heart thumped hard as he eyed the clear barricade. Was the glass really enough to protect them?

The Kingsglaive must have known what was waiting for him. With sword drawn, he stood defensively, eyeing the tunnel. The steel barrier rose. The crowd waited while holding their collective breath. Heavy stomps vibrated through the stone seats. From the shadows stepped forward an iron clad giant. The armored daemon was unlike anything Prompto had ever seen. To be fair, at his age Promptp had yet to see a daemon. Only the upperclassmen had that honor to study such creatures. Spotting the man, the giant charged forward with his sword raised. In a flash, the Kingsglaive was gone before the giant swung his sword into the ground.

"Where'd he go?!" one of the young boys shouted.

Untrained eyes easily missed a key detail to the disappearing act. As they searched for the Kingsglaive the soldier suddenly seemed to have appeared out of nowhere above the giant. He swung his kukri down only to have the steel ricochet off of the armored body. Having gained the giant's attention, the Kingsglaive quickly threw his kukri to the far side of the stadium. Swifter than Prompto could blink, the soldier teleported from the giant to where the sword was thrown.

"Is that warping?" Prompto whispered to the boy next to him.

"That's so cool," the boy responded. The boy stood up for a better view only to be bombarded by angry demands to sit back down.

Prompto finally understood why Drill Sergeant was always so uptight in their training. All of the warnings about the Lucian army now made sense. Warping alone allowed any Kingsglaive to have the upper hand. A gift that can only bestowed by their king…a king who sat safely behind magical barriers while soldiers did his bidding on borrowed magic.

As if to reinforce the assumption, the Kingsglaive flicked his hand forward, unleashing bolts of lightning. The electrical jolts coursed throughout the giant's body. Unable to move the giant roared although Prompto couldn't tell if it was from pain or aggravation. Once the spell subsided the giant stood with wisps of smoke emanating off his body. For several seconds the giant did not move a single muscle. Disappointed groans resonated while other boys grumbled out their complaints at the results. As the soldier relaxed his stance the giant lunged forward and grabbed the man into a large, armored hand. The soldier screamed as the giant squeezed. Audible cracks echoed as bones broke under the grip. In one swing the large sword sliced through the Kingsglaive's neck, silencing his agony. Blood spouted into the giant's face. With a victorious cry, the daemon slammed the corpse back to the ground. Cheers erupted for the unexpected turn of events. While the crowd applauded the victory, Prompto replayed the battle scenes in his head, focusing on the warping and spellcasting.

 _If this is what we are up against, we may as well train daemons to fight our battles._


	7. War's Merciful Embrace

A/N: Those of you who have read my other fics might recognize this chapter. It happens to be one of my favorite pieces I wrote and I feel is a very pivotal moment in Prompto's life so I wanted to include it in this fic as well. I just modified it to fit better in a multi-chapter fic rather than the one-shot it originally was.

* * *

Chapter 6 – War's Merciful Embrace

Tapping the slop with the back of his spoon, Prompto could not erase the image of the previous night from his mind. The daemon's immense power. The decapitation of the Kingsglaive. The deep red blood soaking the arena's dusty ground. While death was not a new experience for Prompto, he had never seen such a gruesome sight. His stomach churned as he recalled the lifeless head bouncing on the ground. A few seconds later the rest of his corpse joined the head with sickening plop. The sounds of breaking bones under the giant's iron grip even haunted his dream. Was this what it would be like on the battlefield? No! Even though his disdain for the Lucian government ran deep at least he had the humanity to dignify an enemy combatant with a quick, painless death. A single bullet to the head was more than sufficient – the perfect job for a sniper. A merciful gift that a daemon would never be able to afford them.

With renewed vigor, Prompto pushed through his daily training. While still slower than the majority of the other boys, Prompto jogged faster than usual until his legs burned. During the group exercise, Prompto pumped through push-ups. Even when his arms shook under the pressure, he pressed on until his arms gave out and he plopped onto the ground, utterly exhausted. By the end of the day, his stomach tightened with sharp cramps. His shins ached, especially when pressure was applied against the bone. Even his arms screamed with every movement, making the chore of cleaning the desks in the upper classmen's study room far more demanding.

Prompto proceeded with the task, scrubbing slowly. He shouldn't complain, really. Cleaning the bathroom would have been a more challenging task. How lucky he was that it was rotation day. After wiping down the desks, Prompto turned to replace textbooks back onto the shelves. The library was far more extensive than he had imagined. Never had he seen so many books. Up to that point, Prompto had only used training books to learn basic reading skills; however formal education was unnecessary at his age. Training the body and psyche took greater precedence. That and weeding out the dead weights of the units.

Curiously, Prompto opened one of the books on the small metal rack and flipped through the pages. Words after words covered the pages. No pictures. Prompto closed the book and stared at the cover. "Comparative Laws: A Case Study of Niflheim and Lucian Judiciary…" Blah! Prompto could already sum up that book as "Lucis sucks and Niflheim rules." Finding its proper spot, Prompto slid the book in into its place. Prompto continued in this manner until a brightly colored cover caught his eyes. The book was much smaller compared to the large, thick textbooks. This one had the words "Guide Book" imprinted on the cover. Perhaps it was meant to be travel sized literature. The rest of the cover read "To the Beasts of Eos." In the middle of the cover was a large horned animal with sharp fangs. Its muscles accentuated the power it must have held. Opening up to a random page, Prompto's gaze fell upon a creature with long legs and a towering neck. The top of its head contained horns that curled backwards. "Arba" titled the page. Under the picture were quick facts about the animal including their habitat and the best way to slay them. Though majestic in appearance Prompto was certain getting rear kicked by one would be painful if not deadly. Thumbing through the pages he spotted animals of different sizes, shapes, and color. One in particular caught his attention.

"Cho-co-bo," he sounded out.

The page contained a picture of several versions of the large bird. Bright yellow, pink, green, white, and even black. Prompto wandered if all were their natural feather color but ultimately decided he didn't care as they all looked marvelous. He fingered over the picture and smiled. Craning his neck around the bookshelf, he surveyed whether or not he was alone. Once satisfied no one else was around, he carefully tucked the book under his shirt and secured it in his waistband. As hastily as possible, Prompto finished his chore, threw on his jacket, which hid all evidence of the contraband, and returned to his barracks for the night. When no one was looking, he transferred the book to under his mattress. He slept that night knowing there was a world of wonder that waited for him outside of the training camps. Now he had no choice but to finish his training. To leave Niflheim and explore the riches of Eos. To find beauty even in the midst of ugly wars.

Parting his lips slightly, Prompto watched steam float from his lips and swirl in front of his face. Cold rain streamed down his face. His teeth chattered incessantly as he fought the urge to shiver. His helmet did very little to block out the deluge while the rain persisted on splashing water into his face. It would have been far worse if the wind actually whipped hard so he hunkered down and suffered through the storm. He mentally cursed for the sudden intrusion of Drill Sergeant's wake up call. He insisted that they wake up earlier than normal just to be out just as the sun was rising. Furthermore he chastised himself for staying up late, imagining what it would be like to ride a chocobo. Pressing his lips together, he stifled a sleepy yawn.

"Cadets," Drill Sergeant barked out, snapping Prompto at attention. "Mother Nature will not give a damn about what your mission is or how hard it may be. She works on her own schedule and if she decides to screw you with a storm or heat wave or whatever else she may throw at you then you must be ready to take it on and compensate for those inconveniences…"

 _Oh!_ The lightbulb clicked in Prompto's mind. _Drill Sergeant wanted to be sure we caught the storm in time._

"…Your survival will rest on your ability to be flexible, to adjust to her temperament. Aurium!"

Their mentor stepped forward. His back was perfectly straight in attention. The rifle hung perfectly over his shoulder.

"Take aim," came the command.

Aurium dropped to his stomach, squishing into the mud. Despite pressing himself into the slippery and wet ground, Aurium did not flinch. Even though he couldn't see the elder's face, Prompto suspected Aurium maintained a stoic look. After hoisting the rifle up and securing the butt against the shoulder, Aurium peered down the scope and waited pateintly. Prompto tilted his head to the side, attempting to get a better view (he was determined to one day actually be tall enough to see over other people's heads). Not seeing anything, Prompto squinted as if he would get a better view of the target. There! A flash of yellow darted through the bushes. A moving target! This was new! They had always used stationary points for practice. This exercise would surely separate the platoon based on skill level. Prompto's heart pounded in his chest as he knew this was a true test of skill. Pressing his lips together, Prompto fought the urge to smirk as he had been craving this kind of challenge after mastering conventional target practice.

Rustle! The bushes moved slightly but the target was well hidden this time. Aurium stood his ground. His gun followed the target's movements as he waited for his opening. Finally the large feathery object popped out and a split-second later the bullet silently slipped through the barrel, piercing through the animal's skull.

Prompto wanted to gasp but the lump in his throat blocked it. Feeling his eyes starting to widen, he quickly blinked to regain his composure despite his heart beating a million miles per minute.

 _A chocobo?_

Having fallen into thick foliage, Prompto could no longer see the corpse and he thanked the gods for that. He recalled the picture he had seen only last night. He would be lying if he didn't admit to falling in love at first sight over the majestic creature. Oh how he wished he could have been the photographer for the book, shooting pictures rather than bullets at one.

"Alright, boys." Drill Sergeant's voice yanked Prompto back to reality. "Now you see what you're up against. You have grown too accustomed to shooting at motionless objects. Lucian soldiers will be anything but motionless. You have already witnessed that for yourself. Ready!"

The entire row in front of Prompto stepped forward and dropped to the ground.

"Aim!"

Rifles were positioned followed by more swift movements in the forest as several chocobos, one for each boy on the ground, darted in and out of the trees and bushes. Panic punched him in the gut as he realized there would be enough chocobos for each troop to hunt down.

Every boy used his scope to follow a bird. Once a cadet had a clear shot, the chocobos began crashing down to the ground as the bullets silently glided through the air. All save for one chocobo who kept running around frantically, searching for an escape as if knowing he was being stalked. Prompto eyed the boy in front of him; his body quivered. The boy's gun frantically followed the creature; however, he had difficulty keeping up with the bird's erratic behavior. The trigger pulled back, but the bird kept running. The boy set the next bullet into the chamber, pulled the trigger, yet the chocobo still stood. Reset, pull, reset, pull. Bang!

Prompto jumped, not anticipating the loud gunshot as a pistol went off. The boy's head jerked sideways before landing into the soft ground. Red streams flowed through the rivets in the rain-eroded mud toward Prompto's feet. The chocobo still stood…the cadet did not.

"Let this be a lesson to you all!" Drill Sergeant's voice rose above the sudden gust of wind. "Remember that the Lucian royalty have the ability to warp to a target. This ability has been bestowed upon all members of the Kingsglaive. If you miss your mark, then you have revealed your location. You're an easy target to get picked off by a warp attack. That means you're dead. You must take out your target first before they even get wind of your presence. Ready!" he commanded once again.

Prompto immediately hit the ground right next to his dead comrade. Through his scope, he slowly searched out his target. Several yellow blurs passed by, signaling that the next batch had been released. One caught his attention but immediately fell to someone else's bullet. Then another. Then another. Prompto watched as each met their death. The sight of each collapsing bird only deepened the salty pools gathering in Prompto's sapphire eyes, obscuring his vision. Finally only one stood. The one now meant for him. The small chocobo nudged at a bigger chocobo, crying out to it only to be answered with silence. Prompto watched the juvenile refusing to leave the body of what he assumed was its mother. The defined shape of its head suddenly turned into a large fuzzy ball. Feeling a surge of cold mud press against the side of his leg, Prompto finally clenched the trigger and watched as the bullet flew though a black speck embedded in the yellow feathers and fly out the back of the chocobo's head. The chocobo plopped beside the bigger chocobo, neither of them moving again. After blinking his tears into the rain that cascaded down his face, Prompto turned to find himself face to face with the barrel of Drill Sergeant's pistol, but the gun instantly disappeared as a look of approval flashed across the man's face.

"Through the eye. Perfect shot, Argentum."

"Yes, Sir," Prompto responded like a preprogrammed robot though he dared not say anything that might be misconstrued as insubordination. As he stood up, Prompto took one last look at his kill before falling back into formation.

 _I'm sorry but my survival depended on it. I only hope that in this heartless war I gave you a small glimpse of mercy._


	8. Caught in a Vise

Chapter 7: Caught in a Vise

The hot shower should have warmed his body and soothed his soul. Instead the spray stung against his cold skin that had gone numb during the sniper training. The pain still did not compare to the one in his heart, which felt as though someone had stabbed him and kept twisting the knife. The accolades he received for his performance should have filled his heart with pride at being top student of the day. So why did he feel so guilty?

It didn't end with the chocobos either. Although hunting down vicious sabretooths was not so heartbreaking. The double standard helped to console him. Unlike the predators, chocobos posed no threat to anyone. They must have been minding their own business when they were taken from their home. Prompto had debated whether the large birds had been bred for their training. The sheer number suggested mass production yet their instinct to hide in the brush did not resemble the behavior of domesticated animals. How many been stolen to fulfill the army's selfish purpose? The young chocobo's cries once again invaded his thoughts. When he stared down his scope, Prompto peered into its soul, witnessed its pain and fear before shooting the bullet through its head. The little soldier's body jerked as he choked back his sobs.

"Aw look! It's Cry Baby Argentum!"

Upon hearing Ferrous's taunts, Prompto rapidly blinked his tears into the running water. However he could not regain his composure fast enough as a hand firmly gripped his shoulder and spun him around. Ferrous stared hard into what Prompto assumed must have been blood shot, puffy eyes. Involuntarily his eyelids blinked in rapid successions but all of his tears had dried up, creating a stinging sensation. A menacing smirk spread across Ferrous's lips as if to say "I gotcha!" Peering down Ferrous's arm, Prompto nocticed it was now free from the cast; his arm had healed.

 _Well, shit._

"Just leave me alone, Ferrous."

Prompto tried to shrug off the intimidation and turned his back to the larger boy. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a group of boys – wide eyed and scared stiff. Were they shocked by Prompto's actions? Had no one ever stood up to…

"Oomph!"

A hard shove threw him off balance; his feet slipped on the wet floor, toppling him forward. Bracing for the fall, the impact shot pain throughout his hands and arms. Before he could scramble to his feet, two boys - one on either side of him - yanked him up by his arms, which were now locked securely in place. Hoisted to his feet, he was forced to face Ferrous. The bully's sneer indicated that Prompto was about to learn his place on the food chain.

"I don't getcha, Argentum. I mean you suck at hand-to-hand combat. You're easily ambushed – that's why I've been able to steal from your rations. The only thing you've got going for ya is that you're an amazing shot. No clue how that miracle happened. Honestly, I'd think you were a robot because of your insane accuracy, but then I find you here weeping for your kills. How are you going to kill people when you can't even handle killing a bunch of birds?"

 _Crap!_ Prompto wanted to avert his gaze in shame but decided to hold his ground instead. He pursed his lips in defiance. _How can he have known about the chocobos? Ferrous was in the infirmary during training for his follow up appointment. Did one of his goons catch me crying? No, it must have been because I hesitated to pull the trigger._

"If it weren't for your limp dick, I'd think you were some weak little pussy."

"Betcha his balls are just as soft as he is."

As soon as the words flew out the goon's mouth, Ferrous's sneer transformed into a twisted smirk. Panic raced through his mind as Prompto pieced together what would happen next. Before he could attempt resistance, the two boys dragged him to the wall. In addition to his arms being immobile, the boys each used a leg to pin his against the cold tiles. He saw Ferrous approach him until they were nose-to-nose. Staring into deep brown eyes, he felt Ferrous's hand clamp tightly onto his testicles. The pressure was so great he fear they would pop. Then Ferrous twisted his hand, contorting his anatomy. Shrill wails echoed throughout the vast room. With his eyes sealed shut, Prompto could not gauge the other boys' reactions. Surely they were all gawking at the scene. The damned place had no privacy. Just shower heads with no walls to separate them. Were any of them horrified at all? Or was this entertainment? Even if he wanted to stare down the bystanders, Prompto's vision was completely blinded by distorted, colored patterns induced by the pain.

"That's enough! Let him go or I'll break your arm again!"

 _Aurium?_

The vise released its clutch. While the pressure dissipated, the pain throbbed in his crotch. Prompto was afraid to look at the bruised, probably mangled mess. Ferrous's friends released him. Unable to support his own weight, Prompto slumped to the tiled floor; he stared at the white ceramic. Using his peripheral vision, he saw Aurium glaring down Ferrous. Aurium must have come to announce the end of their bathing sesson. Aurium never showered with the younger cadets. Most likely he had a different scheduled bath time with the other unit leaders.

"Shower time's over," Aurium barked out as if he was Drill Sergeant. "Get dressed and report to the barracks."

The unit carefully side-stepped around Aurium as they headed for the lockers…except for Ferrous. Instead he walked beside Aurium, bumping his shoulder against the teenager's arm. Reflexively, Aurium grabbed Ferrous and pivoted his arm back, forcing his body to bend forward. Did Ferrous really believe he had a chance against a boy twice his size and tripled the combat experience? Aurium whispered something before unhanding Ferrous though Prompto could not hear what was said. Not that it mattered. Wincing at even the most delicate of touches, Prompto gingerly felt between his legs just to be sure he still had a penis. He did. Too sore to move however, Prompto sat still; the raining water pattered off his body.

"You alright?" he heard Aurium ask.

Prompto slowly shook his head "no."

"Do you want me to carry you to the infirmary?"

Again, a head shake.

"Can you walk?"

A weak shrug. Prompto really was not sure if walking was possible. He wasn't ready to try either.

Sighing, Aurium sat next to Prompt, not seeming to care that his clothes would be soaked as the showers were still running in their vicinity. Silence passed as Prompto delicately attempted to diagnose his condition. Aurium stared at the wall across from them.

"Why don't you ever stand up for yourself?"

Prompto scuffed at Aurium's question.

"You blind or something? Every time I stand up to him I get my ass kicked."

"He keeps pushing you around because he knows you'll cower away. That's how he gained dominance over you."

"Isn't that just how the world works though?"

Aurium turned, shooting him a questioning look.

"It's not any different than us versus Lucis," Prompto continued. "We suffer because Lucis had dominated. For centuries they had land and power. We've been starved out because they possessed fertile lands and wouldn't trade with us. But now that we are winning battles and expanding, Niflheim is starting to dominate over them. There will always be someone on top, like Emperor Aldercapt, and those at the bottom…us."

"Do you intend to stay at the bottom?"

"What choice do I have?" Prompt muttered. Under his breath, he added, "I screwed up trying to kill him."

"So you were aiming for Ferrous that day," Aurium stated slyly with a pinch of pride mixed with surprise.

With widened eyes, Prompto was not sure what shocked him more – Aurium realizing the murder attempt or actually hearing him mutter the confession. Biting his lip, Prompto feared saying anything more.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." Aurium waved a dismissive hand to support his claim.

The sincerity in his voice assured Prompto a smidge yet he still hesitated.

"I…I thought the rifles had real bullets that day. I thought if I could just take him out that I could be rid of him forever. He had set it up so easily that day – my one opportunity. I kind of hate myself for having such thoughts – you know, to murder someone. I'm such a bad person."

"No, you're not, Argentum."

Prompto tilted his head slightly as if he could better read Aurium's emotions by observing his facial expressions. Aurium's features appeared friendly – quite the contrast from his normally stoic countenance.

"Everyone reaches a breaking point if pushed to their limits. At that point you had reached yours. There's nothing wrong with reacting to your emotions. War has a way of screwing with people's minds like that. Some will completely separate themselves from their feelings. Once that happens, people lose their humanity, are reduced to emotionless machines. That's when people can no longer discern right from wrong and only act as automated weapons. Don't ever lose your humanity, Argentum, you hear me?"

Prompto only responded with a solemn nod. After a few moments of silence, Aurium stood and shut the remaining shower heads off. Cold air prickled Prompto's skin, sending a shiver throughout his body. Extending his hand out, Aurium helped Prompto to his feet.

"Listen, I'll make a deal with you."

A blonde eyebrow quirked up, curious about the pending proposition.

"If you teach me how to increase my shooting accuracy, I'll teach you some moves to defend yourself against Ferrous's gang."

Eying him suspiciously, Prompto's expression fell in disbelief.

"What kind of deal is that?" Prompto challenged. "You know how to aim. You shot that chocobo, no problem. What could I actually teach you?"

"You shot it through the eye, Argentum. No one pulls that off on a fluke. I want to know how you did it."

Aurium extended his right hand out. Prompto's eyes shot between the empty hand and Aurium's light green eyes as if searching for some hidden deception. Once satisfied no other ulterior motive existed, Prompto placed his smaller hand in Aurium's and firmly shook on their arrangement.

 _Watch out, Ferrous. I will no longer be your punching bag. Just you wait and see._


	9. Blood, Sweat, and Glory

Chapter 8: Blood, Sweat, and Glory

 _Ngh!_ Prompto groaned as he rolled over on the hard mattress.

The day's training left Prompto stiff as a board. As he tried to stretch his aching muscles, his knees cracked though provided absolutely no relief. He wished so badly to shift positions until he found that ideal sweet spot so that slumber's sweet embrace could finally lull him to the land of dreams however, each movement sent incessant tingles, like being poked by needles, throughout his entire body. Biting his tongue so he wouldn't moan loudly, he risked trying to flip to his stomach until his arm gave out and he flopped hard onto the mattress. The support beams of the bunk bed swayed violently. Prompto held his breath, waiting to see if he roused his bunkmate. With sleep at times being a rare luxury and usually limited to a few short precious hours, any disruption was cause for an ass kicking. Once the loud snore confirmed his upstairs neighbor was still fast asleep, Prompto released a soft, shaky sigh of relief.

After a few minutes of laying still on his side, heavy eyelids began shutting out the world. As he began feeling the sensation of flying off to a far away land, Prompto was jolted back to reality when a large object covered his mouth and half of his nose. His mind raced, fearing the worst. Did he shake the bed again? Did his groans and whimpers wake another neighbor?

Soft lips brushed the side of his ear. Hot breath tickled his cheek as an older boy whispered, "shhhh."

Prompto turned slowly until he saw the silhouette of who he assumed was Aurium. The tall yet slender figure fit his profile. The dim lighting from the security lights that managed to leak through the barrack's windows provided barely enough light to make out Aurium's facial features. Lifting his index finger, Aurium pressed it to his lips, insisting on silence. Prompto nodded his understanding. Aurium then used his finger to beacon Prompto out of bed and to follow him.

Cursing mentally, Prompto silently crept out of bed while every muscle refused to move. He wasn't even sure if he could turn his head fully to the left side; his range of motion was severely compromised. Prompto guided his feet off the edge of the bed and waited until they touched the floor before carefully pushing the rest of his body out of bed, cautiously taking care not to bump his head against the top bunk. When he was finally standing fully erect, Aurium impatiently motioned with his hand to "hurry up."

 _Doing the best I can_ , Prompto mentally snapped back.

He slowly tip-toed, wincing whenever the floor boards creaked. Each sound forced him to check his surroundings. All the occupants miraculously continued to sleep like the dead. Prompto silently prayed his gratitude to the Six.

When he finally reached the door, Prompto crouched down in the shadows next to Aurium and waited for instructions. After a few moments of peering through the windows and listening through the walls, Aurium cracked the door open and swiftly bee-lined for a stack of crates and kneeled behind them. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, Prompto followed Aurium's example until he too was hiding behind the crates. Only then did Prompto release his breath that he had not realized he was holding. His heart thumped, feeling as though it might explode. The full magnitude of their actions hit him when Aurium cupped his hand over Prompto's mouth to ensure silence as a guard passed by. They were breaking a rule! Okay, maybe Aurium routinely broke the rules. After all, his stealth and caution, knowing what to look for, all suggested experience. Prompto however was never derelict of his duties. If they were caught, insubordination was punishable by death. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he imagined every worst case scenario possible. Then Aurium clamped his hand onto Prompto's wrist, yanked the smaller boy to his feet, and made a mad dash for the side of a long building – another set of barracks full of sleeping boys. As they passed between an open gap, Prompto noticed the security lights moving away from them.

 _He knows the timing of the search lights._

Finding refuge behind the next set of barracks and the wall surrounding the base, Aurium motioned for Prompto to crouch down and stay clear of the windows. Tears pooled in the corner of his eyes as a raging fire burned his calves and quads. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but he had no idea if his legs could carry him back. The only reason he didn't fall behind as Aurium meandered in and out of the shadows was because the older boy was practically dragging him. Finally at the edge of the last building, Aurium stopped Prompto and motioned with his hands to look at the fence that encompassed the entire complex. Prompto peered around Aurium and saw a gap in the fence – a dip in the ground just big enough for a thin boy to crawl under. Peering up at a guard tower, Aurium waited until the coast was clear then without warning raced for the gap and slid under the fence. Prompto's eyes widened as his mouth gaped; his head shot between Aurium to the empty spot where he once stood.

 _What the hell just happened?!_

Left alone to fend for himself, Prompto listened for the heavy footsteps of patrolling soldiers from atop the wall. One was walking towards him. His heart raced so fast he thought he might collapse on the spot. Only shadows and a truck stood between him and being discovered. Sweat beads turned to rivers trailing down the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his t-shirt. Panicked eyes locked on Aurium's calm face. He motioned Prompto to wait as he shifted his gaze to the patrolling officer. As soon as Prompto heard the soldier make an about face and the footsteps retreated, Aurium motioned with his hands for Prompto to come to him. Releasing a resistant exhale, Prompto raced to the fence, dove, but instead of sliding himself under it, Prompto suddenly felt himself being dragged from under it and into the safety of the surrounding forest. Following Aurium's lead, the two traversed the wooded landscape, careful not to break any twigs. Once Aurium dictated they were at a safe distance from the base, his tense posture relaxed into a more casual stroll while maintaining an urgency to reach his destination though Prompto was at a loss of where the end point was. Then the trees finally thinned out as the rich soil began converting to the rocky shoreline of a riverbed.

"This is good enough," Aurium stated.

Prompto examined the environment. The tall trees nearly blocked out the lights from the base except for a small glow just reaching over the canopy. The rushing waters provided a serene ambience where one would never guess a facility training child soldiers were just meters way. Though in all honesty, Prompto was not sure how far away the base was; he lost track of that a long time ago.

Looking up, Prompto spotted more stars than he ever had seen from the base and could only guess how many more would appear if the soft glow had not polluted the night sky. A soft freeze blew fresh, cool air against Prompto's cheeks. With a smile and a soft sigh, Prompto plopped himself to the ground, giving himself a moment of reprieve from their arduous journey. The reprieve was short lived as Aurium grabbed the back of Prompto's shirt and hoisted him back to his feet.

"Oh come on!" he protested as his legs screamed for mercy. "My legs are killing me. That drill today with carrying all the gear up and down that hill really took them out. My back too. Then all that crouching and sneaking around…please, can't I just have a breather?"

"No," Aurium said flatly. "You never complain like this in the field training."

"Duh! None of us can complain even if we wanted to. We open our mouths and we either get yelled out, humiliated in front of the unit, or get killed."

"Well in that case…" Aurium pulled a handgun out from the back of his waistband and pointed it at Prompto, locking the bullet into the chamber.

Blood drained from Prompto's face as he froze except for his hands rising up in surrender. "A-Aurium?"

"Get up," he commanded.

Reluctantly, Prompto pushed himself up onto shaky, burning legs. Tears welled up; oh how much he wanted to cry or piss himself at that moment.

Aurium quickly closed the gap between them, lifted his leg, and with one quick thrust to his chest, knocked Prompto onto his back. The impact forced all of the air out of his lungs.

"Get up," Aurium ordered again.

"Duuuude!" Prompto complained once he was no longer gasping for air. "You told me to stand, and then pushed me down, and now you want me to stand again. Make up your mind."

Bang!

Prompto curled into a balled. Oh that time he knew he pissed himself for sure. The unmistakable sensation of warm and wet filled the crotch of his pants.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he shrieked. He wanted to give Aurium a piece of his mind but was cut off before he could utter another word.

"In all of that time you spent complaining, you should have been dead. Good thing I'm a bad aim."

Prompto searched the deadpan face for any hint that he was joking and wasn't really aiming for his head yet his demeanor showed nothing but intent. Pushing himself up to sitting position, Prompto tried to scoot away from Aurium only to get shot at again. Dust kicked up in the air just in front of his feet.

"Why are you trying to kill me?! The hell did I do to you?!"

"You don't you get it, do you? Why don't you try to defend yourself?"

Prompto's eyes widened in a "are you kidding me" look. Defenseless and incredulous Prompto was ready resign himself to the inevitability of death.

"You're the one pointing the gun at me. What can I do? If I rush you, I get shot. If I moved a centimeter and you shot at me anyway! Either way I'm dead."

"That's your problem, Argentum. You resign yourself to defeat so easily. That's why everyone walks all over you. You bitch about being in pain rather than pushing yourself to overcome your limitations. You are so quick to accept death rather than preserving your life. All of these things gets a soldier killed in battle. That's what our training is for. It's not just about being physically able but mentally as well. Now get up."

Watching Aurium discarding the gun to the ground, Prompto concluded that his safety was secured. He stood up and waited for his next set of instructions. Faster than he could think, a foot slammed hard against the side of his head, whipping his body around before belly-flopping onto the ground.

"Get up!"

Prompto managed to position himself on all fours before a sharp kick to the ribs flipped him onto his back.

"You need to move faster, Argentum."

From the corner of his eye, Prompto spied Aurium raise his leg. As it stomped down, Prompto rolled out of his reach. A small smirk tugged at Aurium's lips while a proud sparkle twinkled in his eye. The next hour progressed in a dance of Prompto trying to stay on his feet while being continuously forced to the ground. Sometimes his feet were swept out from under him while other times he was grappled. The bruise-inducing waltz ended with Prompto drenched head to toe from being thrown into the river.

"That's enough for the night," Aurium announced while extending his hand.

Prompto clasped onto Aurium with a slippery grip. Thankfully Aurium's strength was enough to maintain his hold so Prompto wouldn't fall back onto his already soaked butt. The once refreshing breeze now chilled him to the bone.

"W-w-we can't go back like t-t-this," his teeth chattered.

Aurium shot him a quirked eyebrow. A knowing smile flashed as he withdrew a duffle bag from behind a bush. Prompto mouth gaped - both surprised and impressed by the preplanning.

"This isn't your first time sneaking out is it?"

Aurium's smile faded, replaced by a frown and a break in eye contact. Prompto bit his lip as his heart sunk. Was his question so wrong?

"I-I…I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry about it," Aurium cut in. "It's not that important…but you're right. I'm not a novice in this field. Hurry up. We need to you back to bed."

Without hesitation, Prompto stripped as the fabric wrestled to cling to his skin. Welts already swelled up; the red deeply contrasted with his fair skin. He winced as he thought about the deep purple bruises that will litter his body in a few hours. Were they so naïve that they will get away with this? Someone will notice!

A fresh, dry shirt flung at his face snapped him out of his thoughts. Prompto looked up in to find Aurium staring emotionlessly at him. The boy definitely had a good poker face.

"Don't dwell on it," Aurium suggested. "The more you over think it, the worse it'll be. Just leave everything to me. Okay?"

A simple nod was all Prompto gave as a reply; nothing more was needed. As they began their trek back to base, Prompto's entire body screamed as each step aggravated every single nerve. If this was the price to pay to be a stronger soldier, then his flesh was a small price to pay for the glory of Niflheim.


End file.
